


almost famous friends

by onlykaspbrakk



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, POV Outsider, POV Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier's Stand Up Act, Tattoos, Teenage Losers Club (IT), Truth or Dare, in chapter 3 only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlykaspbrakk/pseuds/onlykaspbrakk
Summary: Instead of pulling away, Richie flipped Stan off. Everything would be okay.or, Richie tattoos R+E instead of carving it
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 37





	almost famous friends

The bottle clinked against the floor as it spun in a circle. Richie prayed it didn’t land on him. Despite making himself out to be the life of the party, never turning down a dare, he wished just for once he had the option too. The way they played the game was that if you had a dare you didn’t want to do, you had to answer a truth. It wasn’t that Richie didn’t want his friends to know things about him, it was that he wanted to control what he told them, not have to answer a specific question. The thought of the things they could ask terrified Richie, and so he chose dare. He always chose dare. The only problem was the Losers were starting to see that Richie always picked dare. So they made their dares worse and worse as time went on. Trying to figure out the right thing to make Richie break. Eddie was last, so he got to pick. Eddie’s dares always pushed the hardest. The bottle hit the floor with a noise. Richie looked down. It was on him. Shit. 

“So, Richie. Dare?” Richie just nodded as a response, “I dare you to… get a tattoo.” 

Eddie’s face was smug, Richie could tell that he thought this was the dare. The dare that finally got him to break. He couldn’t let him win. “I’ll do it. Where can I get one?” 

“My uncle has a shop, he’ll do it.” Bev pitched in.

“Can we do it now?” 

“Uh, yeah I guess. What do you want to get?”

“Well, since Eds here is the reason I’m getting this, I’m gonna get our initials.” Richie knew that wasn’t the reason he wanted to get their initials tattooed. But his friends didn’t need to know that. He wasn’t sure if this was a great idea, but what else do you do when you’re sixteen and in love with your best friend? 

Richie leaned in to kiss Eddie’s cheek. Eddie let him but wiped it off as soon as Richie’s mouth was away, “Ew, I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“You could go ask your mother.” Richie tried to ignore the weight sitting on his chest from Eddie letting him kiss his cheek. 

There was a collective groan from the Losers before Stan said, “Hey, Rich. You don’t have to do this you know.” Stan checking in on Richie as always, but Richie had to do this. He could either tell them his best-hidden secret, or he could display it on his body for only him to know the true meaning. Yeah, Richie would choose the ladder 

Richie just shrugged, “Yeah, but I know what you guys are trying to do, and I’ll be damned if I let you win. So are we all gonna go?” 

The tattoo shop was cold and the seven of them barely fit into the waiting area. Richie was buzzing with that nervous excitement. He was making a permanent mark on his body for someone he wasn’t even sure liked boys. His parents would probably kill him if they found out, adding to the nervousness of the situation. 

“Wh-Where are you g-going to get it?” Bill leaned towards Richie and whispered. 

“My collarbone maybe? Or the inside of my finger,” Richie hadn’t really thought about where he wanted it in all honesty. 

“I think you should get it on your ass,” Bev added, “Then no one would see it.” 

“Unless he becomes some kind of porn actor or he’s in a nudie mag.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Richie feigned offensive, he wasn’t sure what he would do without his friends sitting here with him. 

“Jokes aside, I think you should get it on your finger. It would probably hurt less.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve heard ones on the finger fade really fast. I’d get collarbone. If you want it to last that is.” Eddie was blushing as the words came out. To Richie, it seemed as though he wanted it to last. Richie would do anything for Eddie, so he made his decision. 

“Okay, so it’s decided! I’ll get the collarbone!” 

After a few moments, a man on the shorter side came to the front of the store, asking for him. Richie stood up, momentarily panicking, before following to the back. They went through the standard procedure, or what Richie would assume was standard considering he’s never done this before. Before he knew it, he was set up in the chair, about to have ink set permanently into his skin. And holy shit, it hurt worse than expected. Despite being recommended to get just under the actual bone, it still felt like he was being stung by hundreds of bees, “Okay, holy shit that hurts.” 

Despite the intense pain at first, it didn’t take long. After all, he was only getting a few lines of ink. Soon enough, he was looking in the mirror at the small lettering of R + E, “Okay let’s get you wrapped up! Don’t worry about money, it’s on the house, just for Bev.” Richie thanked him, letting him wrap around his chest with some sort of plastic. Richie left with some advice on how to care for it until it healed, and an odd sensation in his stomach. This felt like a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone and everything in this town. After all, he did just get another boy’s initial tattooed forever into his skin. 

“What did it feel like?” 

“It wasn’t terrible after a minute.” Mike just got this look in his eye. Richie couldn’t place it, but it seemed as if he was planning something. Richie could ask about it later. 

That later never came, well it did. Just two years later instead of the day or two that Richie was thinking of, “Guys, we’re all eighteen now. I think we should get tattoos.” 

Unsurprisingly, Mike was bombarded with questions such as why, and of what. He answered them with a very thought out answer, “Since we’re all leaving Derry, we need something to tie us together while we're away. I think it should be what was written on Eddie’s cast because that was the day we became the losers.” He had a point, and of course, Richie was down. Bev showed her support to the idea as did Bill. Eddie was hesitant at first, but he was already holding up a middle finger to his mom just by leaving this town and moving to New York of all places for college. What was one more? Ben agreed after some convincing from Bev, and Stan, well he took some time. He essentially wrote a pro-con list but ended up deciding he was all in, as long as it wasn’t in someplace that would prevent him from getting a job.

It didn’t feel real, they were all leaving this town that Richie was sure he would die in. Richie and Bill heading to California, Ben going to some program in London, Stan going to Georgia, Bev to Chicago. Mike is going to Florida. Richie thought Eddie’s move would hit him hardest. They would be over 2,000 miles away from each other. Richie wasn’t sure if he could handle being this far away from all of his friends, but Mike had a point. The same reason he put the E on his body. Immortality. Their friendship would be forever, engraved in their skin. Although, it seemed as Mike was keeping some information from them. He’d practically begged them. 

So yet again, they piled into the shop, deciding on their placements. Stan decided on the inside of his arm, claiming it would be easy to hide with a shirt on, Eddie and Richie decided on their wrist, Bev along her ribs, Mike along his arm, and Ben his leg. They were all set, Richie had the familiar feeling of the nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. School got out in a couple of weeks and then they were out of this city once and for all. Deep, deep down, Richie knew that things would change when they left Derry. It wasn’t something he thought really, it was more like, more like a feeling. Something that pooled deep in his chest, making it harder to breathe. 

Overall, it took hours to get the tattoos done, but it seemed there was a lightness in the air once they were all done, “Holy shit, we all have tattoos. My mom’s gonna fucking kill me.” 

“My parents too,” Stan added, suddenly pulling his shirt sleeve down to cover the wrapping. 

“We fucking did this!” 

Richie was suddenly aware that they were all leaving, and contact would be harder, and fuck, there wasn’t a better time to do this, “Guys.” Richie stopped walking, hoping the others would follow suit. Thankfully, they did, “I have something to tell you, uh.” 

“Wh-What is it, Rich?” 

“I’m, I’m gay.” This was the first time he’s said it out loud, it felt freeing. He at least wanted his friends to know before their uncertain fate. It was silent for a moment. That was concerning. It lasted just long enough for Richie to overthink. What if they don’t want to be his friend anymore?

“I’m so proud of you!” Bev pulled him for a bone-crushing hug, the other Losers slowly joining in. 

Once they pulled away Richie couldn’t help himself, “So you don’t hate me?” 

“Richie, we could never hate you!” 

“Yeah, R-Rich, you’re our friend!”

Richie reached up to wipe his eyes, he was crying, just a little bit. He was so worried that things would go wrong, he didn’t stop to think that things might go well. Eddie pulled him in for his own hug, “You are so brave, ‘Chee. I’m so proud of you.” The tears that Richie had just wiped off had returned, this time slightly harder, as he gripped the back of Eddie’s shirt. He had the best friends anyone could ever ask for, Richie wasn’t sure if he could ever live without them. 

\------

One last hangout in the clubhouse or that’s what Bill had called it. So there they were. Richie in the hammock, some Nirvana song playing in the background from one of Bev’s CDs. The comic in Richie’s hands becomes abandoned soon after picking it up, “I’m gonna miss you all.” 

“Aw, Stan that’s so nice of you!” Stan rolled his eyes, and Richie lowered his voice, “I’m gonna miss you guys too.” 

“It’s so weird that we’ve all been here for 18 years, and now we’re all going to entirely different places. For the first time in our lives, we won’t be together, starting next week.” 

The silence following that statement was tangible, they were all sitting, basking in the revolution. This really could be the last time they're all together at once. Nothing really felt real anymore. Defeating an alien space clown felt more real than them leaving Derry. Richie has talked about wanting to leave this town forever, but now that it was happening, he wasn’t sure if he did or not. Derry didn’t feel like home in any sense, but it was comfortable. Where else was he supposed to go through multiple kinds of trauma in just a year with his best friends? Richie didn’t think there was anywhere else in the world that offered that kind of childhood but Derry, a murderous clown, and an actual murderer? ‘Fun for the whole family,’ Richie thought bitterly, ‘Sure, you might lose some children in the process.’

“Thank fuck we’re leaving this hellhole!” Richie had wanted to be sincere with his friends, but there was always something holding him back, a tugging on his chest, pulling on his head, but hey, jokes were just free therapy right? Well, at least that’s what Richie has always used them for. 

“Cheers to that!” And yeah, Richie would miss this. 

\------

Driving out of Derry in Richie’s truck didn’t feel like something he was allowed to do, but with almost all of his belongings with him, he began his cross-country journey. The further away from Derry he went, the further away his memories seemed. Like a dream. It felt exactly like waking up from a dream. You remember it all at first, but slowly forgetting as you go about your day until it’s pushed all the way in the back of your mind, for you to forget forever, never giving it a second thought. When Richie thought about it, that was the perfect metaphor for the town. Ask  
anyone on a road trip about the town, and they’ll tell you that they might have stopped at a small thrift store, or to buy an antique. They’d tell you that it was a small charming town. Ask anyone who lived there and they’d tell you that they didn’t know anything outside of the town, for they had lived their entire lives too. To be honest, Richie wasn’t sure if he would make it this far. He thought maybe some invisible force field would stop him, and he’d be like every other person in the town. Or they’d find out he was gay and stone him to death. It was a wonder he survived the- the what was it that he survived again? Richie couldn’t remember anymore. That definitely wasn’t normal. Richie had the feeling that that moment was an important moment in his life, how could he have just forgotten it? 

Richie gripped the wheel tighter, none of this made sense. He glanced up at a road sign, Cleveland. He wasn’t that far from Maine, only 14 hours of his 40-hour trip. Would he forget more and more the more he was away from home? It seemed likely, his friends' faces already seemed hazy, unable to recall small details about them. Suddenly Richie’s fears of how he would be able to live without them seemed more real than ever. 

\------

Richie had just turned 27, and he was living the dream, well that is if the dream is being yelled at, backstage of a talk show, and never quite growing into your limbs. Richie was really hoping for that too. He didn’t remember much of his teen years, but he did remember that he was all limbs. Arms and legs too long for his body. He wasn’t even the kind of tall where he looked good and people wanted to date him, he was still built like a teenage boy. Elbows and knees still sticking out, “You’re on in five, Tozier.” He nodded at the lady telling him. He’d never been on a talk show, he wasn’t important enough, but now his comedy career is kicking off, and he’s on an up and coming TV show. He was nervous, like really nervous. His hands were shaking. “And you’re on!”

“Everyone, welcome Richie Tozier!” Richie sat in the plush white chair while the audience clapped. He gave an awkward half-wave. He couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing up and down. 

“Hi, thanks for having me, Allison!” Richie’s manager had briefed him on what he was supposed to be doing here, but most of this relied on him, the audience for this wasn’t his normal demographic. 

“It’s my pleasure! Now, Richie, this is your first TV show correct?”

“Yes, it is.” Richie’s breaths were shaky, this was entirely different than doing a show, at least when he was doing a show he knew most of the people there liked him, but this was like going on Ellen at 9:00 pm, you never know what the people would think about you.

“From what I’ve seen so far, you’ve done a fantastic job, and I’ve seen some of your standups, that’s pretty funny too.” 

“Thank you, really, means a lot,” Richie wasn’t lying, it really did mean a lot to him. After all, comedy was free therapy, and he needed the constant validation of someone else constantly. Though, whoever he got it from didn’t seem right. He felt like he was waiting for one specific person or a specific group of people to see him and think he’s funny, so he’d live like this until he found them.

“How is acting for the show different from doing standup? Is it any easier? Harder?” If Richie was into girls, this girl would be nice, she was older than him, but not by much it seemed. A pretty blonde in a button-up blouse. Her voice was deep and raspy in a good way. Lipstick smeared around her mouth and on her white coffee cup. Why a coffee cup was beyond Richie considering it was nine, but Richie was too embarrassed to ask. 

“It’s not really either of those, it’s just kinda… different, like because it’s a comedy-drama show, I still get the chance to be funny, but in a different way,” When Richie was asked to do this show, he wasn’t sure what to think, but after getting the script, he came to really enjoy the plot. Not only that, but he related to it in a way that he wasn’t sure he would tell anyone. Though he had a feeling that there were people out there who knew his secret, although he didn’t have the faintest idea of who they could be. 

After this, she asked a variety of more questions, most that Richie couldn’t remember. He started to relax, the audience laughed at some of his jokes and some ever seemed like they cared what he was saying, but he suddenly got the one question he wasn’t ever really expecting, “You have an entirely different fanbase from the show I take it and most of them have discovered that you have tattoos, can you talk about those? Do you have more than the one on your wrist?”

“Uh,” Richie wasn’t really sure what to say, but he figured he would just go along with it, it made the most sense, “Yeah I can. I have the one on my wrist, and then I have one just under my collarbone. It just says R plus E on it. 

“Do you mind me asking what they mean?” In all honesty, Richie didn’t mind, but this question would have a cooler answer if he actually knew what it was.

“Not at all, and I’d tell you if I remembered,” That wasn’t the full truth, Richie remembered a little of the meaning, he remembered big brown eyes, he remembered the feeling in his stomach when he looked into them, he remembered what it felt like to spend time with the best group of friends anyone could ever ask for. He didn’t remember names or faces. He remembered small details, a stutter, short red hair, nicknames like ‘Haystack’ and ‘Homeschool.’ It was frustrating, not being able to place who those nicknames belonged too, or what they looked like, or why they were friends, or what they did together.

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I just don't remember what they mean. I remember getting them and picking them and I remember knowing the meaning but now, you could put a gun to my head and I wouldn't be able to tell you.”

“Very odd, it seems Tozier is a man of mystery as well! This has been Monday’s with Allison Connagy, with special guest Richie Tozier from TNT’s Ghost in the Mirror! Stay tuned for our next guest, coming up after the break!” And that was it. That was his experience on live TV, and quite frankly, Richie could go his entire life without ever doing it again. There were lots of things Richie could go his entire life without ever doing again, cocaine, fighting-. Fighting what? Richie wasn’t sure, he didn’t know where that thought came from. As far as Richie knew, he’d never been in a fight, though he did always think he had a very punchable face, so he didn’t think he could blame anyone for hitting him if they did. 

One habit Richie has recently picked up again was smoking. Richie only knew it was again because his lungs didn’t protest the way other people did, Richie knew there was a reason why he quit, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe it was the boy from his dreams. Literally. Richie constantly had weird dreams. They weren’t necessarily bad, but they weren’t good. The faces he couldn’t remember once he woke up appearing, although he could remember the rattling of an inhaler. If that kid was real, that must be it. The more he thought about the kids from his dream, the hazier they got. They were crystal clear when he wasn’t thinking about them, but the second he started to try to put names and faces to them, they blurred and it seemed everything he knew about them faded into nothingness. Except, it didn’t. He knew all of these memories are still there, he just didn’t know how to access them. Every time he tried he got this nauseous feeling wash over him like something wasn’t right. But Richie just wanted to know the reasons he had these marks etched into his skin, the scar on hand, the feeling in his stomach every time he touched it. 

\------

Richie was backstage, the room was packed with people waiting to see jokes he didn’t even write, most of them straight white men. Richie didn’t really want to go on. For the past week, he’s had this awful feeling, he wasn’t sick but there was just this feeling of dread making itself at home in Richie’s stomach, the scar on his hand hurting for the first time since he got it. That’s when he got the call from Mike. It was too much for Richie to handle. Fragments of memories hit Richie like shards of glass after a car accident. It felt like a car accident. Not everything was there, there were still pieces missing. Richie ran his finger along the lines of his tattoo. After 27 years, he finally knew where it came from, and why. He could put a face to the big brown eyes, and the hand holding the inhaler, and it felt like a slap in the face. It felt as though he was being taunted, the feelings he felt for the boy still there but not knowing the face of the boy was torture. He felt as though he was going to throw up, on second thought, he might.

Richie tried to go on, he really did, but he still felt like he’d been hit by a bus. Like he was being waterboarded. He couldn’t remember his jokes, his legs were shaking and he felt like he couldn’t stand. It suddenly hit him that none of these jokes were him. They were a persona and nobody but the losers ever really knew the real him.

Richie had to get off this stage. The lights felt warmer than usual like they were burning his skin. He was a vampire in sunlight. 

On the way out, his manager tried to stop him, but Richie wouldn’t listen. Couldn’t listen. He had to get the fuck to Derry. He had to see his friends. The Losers. It had been way too long.

\------

The car ride to the airport was weird, he booked tickets on a plane the second he stepped off the stage. The air felt heavier than usual. It might have just been the cloud of anxiety surrounding Richie ever since the call. He couldn’t help but feel like something bad was supposed to happen. Richie knew something happened in the summer of ‘89 but he couldn’t remember that just yet. He knew there had to be something that happened that made them forget all about their time in Derry, and each other. 

Richie was glad he did have to drive all the way there, he wasn’t sure he was in the state to drive for two days. This seemed too urgent to do that anyway. He had to get there ASAP. 

Sitting on the plane, he thought about the times he had with his friends. It seemed impossible that he was able to forget them. Although he missed Eddie, mostly due to being in love with him, he missed the people he wasn’t in love with too. He missed Stan and his stories about the birds he saw on his way to hang out, he missed Bev and the cigarettes they shared and the time they spent in the music store, he missed Bill and his stories he would tell at sleepovers, he missed Mike and his big heart and good ideas and his tendency to never back down, and he missed Ben, with his affinity for boy bands and his love of history. 

Richie’s next thought shook him to his core, the losers knew. They knew he was gay. That’s who knew, the people from his dreams. If that was true, maybe the glowing yellow eyes and taunting voice were real too. 

Richie could still hear it, “Don’t touch the other boys, Richie. They might know your secret.” It felt good that Richie could control telling them for himself, and he didn’t have to worry about whatever that thing from the nightmares was doing it for him. 

\------

Richie hated hospitals. He hated the sound the paper made when moved and he hated having to be there for someone when it wasn’t himself. 

Well, Richie was there for himself, but he was also there for Eddie, and he was there for Stan. Stan had had his arm totally cut open. He needed stitches. Eddie had broken his arm. The same arm as last time. He had complained saying, “My arm is fragile! Because I broke it once, it’s easier to break again!” And Richie had apologized multiple times. Eddie wasn’t really mad though, he was good with pain. Richie looked down at the tattoo on his wrist, reminding himself of his friends and how they’d saved his life. When Richie got caught in the deadlights after being dropped he had broken his ankle. He cried a little bit. But Eddie was more important than being in some pain. Richie rolled both of them over, crushing Eddie’s arm. Eddie didn’t really care, because Richie had basically saved Eddie’s life. Richie would do anything for Eddie, and he needed him to know. 

So here they were, in the hospital parking lot. It was awkward, Richie on crutches he wasn’t great at using yet, and Eddie in an arm cast, “Hey Eds, can we talk?”

“Of course.” 

“Don’t interrupt me,” Richie started with, figuring that was the best place to start, Eddie just nodded, “I have loved you ever since we were thirteen, and I never stopped. Even when I forgot you I still felt it. There’s never been anyone but you. Okay, you can speak now.” Richie had tears pooling in his eyes, he was hoping Eddie didn’t notice that. 

Eddie didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached up with his good arm and kissed Richie. Richie was shocked at first but kissed back nonetheless. This was what he’d been wanting ever since he was a teenager. Things were going right for him, for once in his life. Eddie liked him back. 

“Woo! Finally!” Richie didn’t have to look to see who the voice was belonging too, Stan was always rooting for Richie despite Richie never telling him he liked Eddie. 

Instead of pulling away, Richie flipped Stan off. Everything would be okay.


End file.
